


Lost With You

by Kayim



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 05:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't know how to be with her.  And he doesn't know how to not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost With You

She comes home later than her curfew. She always does when his mother is away. But he's been sitting by the window for the last hour, every possible scenario running through his head. He picks up his cell phone and calls her – twice – but she doesn't answer, and as the clock ticks past the witching hour, he's almost convinced that she's dead.

When he finally hears her key in the front door lock, he picks up a magazine, turns away from the window and pretends that he wasn't waiting.

"Aww, you stayed up for me," she giggles, unsteady on her feet. She stumbles her way over to the armchair and flops herself onto his lap, kissing his cheek loudly. She's wearing a dress that wouldn't look out of place at a children's party – all pink and glittery – if it weren't for the fact that it was barely long enough to be classed as decent. She bought it two days earlier, much to his mother's disgust and had insisted on modelling it for him, twirling around so that the skirt lifted even higher. He'd simply bitten his tongue and told her she looked beautiful.

"You were supposed to have been home two hours ago," he says in his best responsible voice, trying to ignore the heat that emanates from her barely-covered body. She winds one arm around his neck and plasters herself against him.

He wonders how drunk she is, but she giggles once more and it's enough of an answer in itself. She's only ever happy enough to giggle when she's drinking. He tries to be angry, but hearing her laugh, even if it's alcohol induced, is enough to dissipate the feelings and relish the sound.

"Not drunk," she whispers as if revealing a secret, her breath warm against his cheek. She's always been able to read his thoughts. "Just a little tipsy."

He doesn't answer her, too painfully aware of the way she's pressing her body into his, and the feel of her waist beneath the thin sparkling material.

"Don't be mad at me. I hate it when you're mad at me." She lifts her head up and smiles at him, running her fingers through his hair. She shifts her position and there is no way she's not aware of the reaction she's causing. She doesn't stop though, her fingers tracing the tips of his ears, moving down his cheek, until they slide under the collar of his shirt.

He knows what's coming, what always happens when she's been drinking, and he knows that he needs to be the one to stop it. She leans in and kisses him, softly at first as though she's gauging his level of interest and then harder and deeper, the way they both want. Her hands are twisting the buttons of his shirt, while his search for the zipper at the back of the dress. He gives up all pretenses and lifts her until she is straddling him completely.

She reaches down between them, fumbling to unfasten his jeans. There's no romance in this, not here, not now, but it's what she wants, and he knows he'll take anything that's offered. It's awkward, but neither one cares as he lifts himself to slide his jeans down until they hang loosely around his ankles. Her fingers are cold when she grips him, curling tightly around his already hard cock, and she guides him where she wants him. He should be offended, he's sure, being treated like some kind of sex doll, but as she sinks down onto him, enveloping him completely, he forgets about should be. All he knows is that he can't stop.

He's lost without her. And he's just as lost when he's with her.


End file.
